Sick Little Games

In an effort to release my emotions and epiphanies, this will hopefully become a regular thing. I hope people will actually read this, as I might ask for some sort of advice. Currently, it is July first, two-thousand and nine. One o'clock in the morning on the dot. I'm currently listening to one of my favorites on All Time Low's Nothing Personal, "Sick Little Games." This certain song makes me think of recent events that have occured within my friends and I.

But first I shall release my thoughs on Nothing Personal itself. The whole record wasn't what everyone had hyped it up to be. Everyone made it seem like it was going to be the most epic thing ever. I'm not saying its not good. Hell, I love it. But it wasn't what I expected. Though it is one of the albums I can listen to from beginning to end. Among those being The Maine's Cant Stop, Won't Stop, Cute Is What We Aim For's Rotation, and Death Cab For Cutie's Transatlanticism. Does anyone else think Alex's voice is way different? I don't really know what to make of it. But if they like what they've produced to us fans, then I'm happy for them. Let them play what they want to play. I'll still support them no matter what. In my mind, those boys haven't sold out. They're just trying to live their dreams. They're the same goofy boys I knew two years ago. I'm happy for them.

Now, on to my issues, though I know you love talking about those boys. I need some advice. I am part of a rather famous marching band in this country. The Lafayette High School Marching Band from Lexington, Kentucky. I'm actually in the color guard, but we're considered part of the whole band. Last year we won the state title, and fourteen before that. If you walked into my gym, you'd see our banner full, while the other sports have no more than five. Guard is one of my many passions, along with singing, piano and writing. And I'm a bowler, but we'll leave that out for now. With guard comes rides back and forth to practice. The two other girls that share rides with me (they're names have been changed in this) have changed drastically over the past two marching band seasons. Ashley isn't necessarily unbearable, but is starting to follow in Samantha's tracks.

Samantha is a long story that I will not tell from beginning to end. Long story short, she used to hate everyone in the world because her parents divorced when we were only in elementary school. She decided to take it out on everyone else. In seventh grade she matured and befriended me. All throughout the end of my freshman year, she was one of my good friends. And once she made the weapons line in color guard our sophomore year, while I decided to stick with flag, she's held it over me. And she feels that she is better than everyone else. Even Ashley, but yet she still treats Ashley the same. There's a whole background story as to why Samantha is treating me different, but my mother has threatened to take away my All Time Low album when it comes in the mail if I talked to anyone about this 'reason' as to why I'm being treated badly by my so-called friend.

Monday night, practice had just let out. Usually everyone asks the freshman to take their flags up because they're too fucking lazy to do it themselves. I would personally feel like a bitch if I ever did that, because I know what it feels like. Samantha and I had been through that, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she knows its true. So I used the legs God gave me and took my own flag up without a problem. Samantha comes rushing into the band room.

"Come on! We're going to Moe's! It closes at nine, you've got to hurry!"

I went along with it. I mean, I didn't really like Mexican food, but I'd still go. I was hungry either way. So I followed her out to her mother's car and she was already in. Around ten seconds later I got in.

"Go ahead and take Amanda home. She doesn't want to go."

Excuse me?

Now though I don't like Mexican food, it still would have been nice to have been asked if I wanted to go. I felt like crying, but I was a strong girl. I'd hold it in. I didn't know what I had ever done to Samantha. I'd never done anything to give her the right to treat me that way, but I wasn't about to mention it in the car. Samantha's mother turned toward me, a stern look in her eyes.

"I'm not going to fucking wait on you every time I come to pick you up. You got that? I don't have time for this."

Twice in one night? My eyes were tear-brimmed, and I was struggling to hold them all in.

Ashley was not at fault. But she wasn't defending me, either. There was a thin line, in my mind at least, between sitting there and watching me be put down by a daughter and mother, and going along with it.

As I walked into my house, I tried to cover up the fact that I felt like crying. My mother stood in the kitchen, looking through the brochure we had received upon purchasing our flight tickets to New York City.

"You look like you've been crying," She announced.

So I told her. I told her what happened in the car, and how I wanted to quit band. How I couldn't stand being put down by Samantha. I'm not the perfect dancer, and I told my mother how I could hear Samantha laughing at me when I would go across the floor. She found any excuse to put me down.

"So what do you want to do?" She asked me. "If you quit, they might not take you back next year. And that's four hundred dollars already down the drain for me. And you know if you quit, they'll still talk about you no matter what."

"Can I think about it?" I asked, still sniffling from the tears.

She agreed that I would have two weeks to think about it, seeing as we're going to New York on Monday and I don't have guard until July 13th.

I still don't know what to do.

Comment with advice.